"I'm afraid he will, for a bit, Maggie," he answered. "He'll get over it; I'm not the first fellow who has had to live a thing down."
"But when you never did the thing?"
"We won't go into that. I've got to live it down. Boys often have rough kinds of things to get through, and this is one. It doesn't matter a bit. Don't fret, Mag. I assure you, I don't feel at all bad about it."
"Oh, look at the moon!" suddenly exclaimed Marjorie. "Isn't she a lady? isn't she graceful? I wish those trees wouldn't hide her; she'd be so lovely, if we could have a good look at her."
"We can't half see her here," said Basil. "Let's come into father's room. We'll have a splendid view from one of his windows."
Marjorie had forgotten all about her fatigue now. She took Basil's hand, and in a silent ecstasy which was part of her emotional little nature, went with him into the big bedroom where Mr. Wilton slept. They could see splendidly all over the park from here, and as they looked, Marjorie poured out a good lot of her fervent little soul to her favorite brother.
Basil was never a boy to say much about his feelings. Once he stooped down and kissed Marjorie.
"What a romantic little puss you are," he said. Then he told her she must be sleepy, and sent her away to bed.
"But you won't stay in this great lonely room by yourself, Basil."
"This room lonely?" said Basil with a smile. "I used to sit here with mother. And her picture hangs there. I'm glad of the chance of having a good look at it in the moonlight."